


upstairs

by ABigRock



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Bullying, Dry Humping, Dubcon or Noncon Moirallegiance, F/M, Foreplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 17:58:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21450379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABigRock/pseuds/ABigRock
Summary: Author note: This is dubcon bullying between Pickles and my OC, Elle, whom he is married to in my headcanon. She is his bodyguard. She is an israeli native, ex IDF. Short black hair, tan skin. This is a WIP and more will be added.
Relationships: Pickles The Drummer/Original Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	upstairs

She was lounging on the couch with her boots up and her headphones in. She wasn't in her usual uniform, which was interesting. She'd swapped the tank top for a long-sleeved something and what he was pretty sure were leggings underneath. They looked strange combined with her heavy boots, but he could work with it. He slipped smoothly around to the side she was resting her head on. He leaned over and grinned down at her.  
"Hello there."  
She blinked up at him with no expression, removing an ear bud from one ear.  
"Mind if I join you?" he asked.  
"No."  
"No, you don't mind?"  
"No, don't bother me."  
"I'm not gonna bother you," he assured, coming around front. "Here, let me sit down." He patted one warm calf, relishing the brief touch, but she didn't move. Brazen, he hefted her legs up with an exaggerated groan and plopped down under them. They were heavy and warm in his lap, and unable to resist, he tried to creep one hand up her thigh. She swatted him away.  
"What are you listening to?" he asked. She ducked to avoid him when he reached for one ear bud.  
"Radio," she answered curtly.  
"Oh, yeah? What song?"  
"Go away."  
He rolled his eyes and made himself comfortable. She shot him a very weary look when he lit up a joint.  
"What?" he asked. "Want some?"  
She didn't answer. He took a long drag. Her weariness deepened and he exhaled, blowing it away from her.  
"Fine. But this is good shit."  
It took a minute, but she finally broke and reached for it. She took a huge drag and sent herself into a coughing fit. He grinned, taking the opportunity to get a few handfuls of warm, hard thigh before her boot was planted against his cheek, pushing him away gently. He dropped the roach and scrambled to snuff it out with the sole of one crappy sneaker before the carpet sparked.  
"No, come on!" he whined. "You made me drop it!"  
"You're a pest."  
They scuffled a little more and as usual she made a mistake out of his positioning. This time, she got him around the neck with a perfect leg lock, dragging him down and pinning him so that his face was pressed against her lower belly.  
"You're lucky I'm not wearing my belt," she said.  
Lost in the smell of her shirt and everything underneath, he succumbed. She unlocked her phone, sighed, and graciously ignored his wandering hands, which were making their way up her calves to her thighs.  
"What are these? Yoga pants?" he asked against her warm, flat belly.  
"Comfortable."  
"What happened to tactical 24/7, huh?"  
"Please. This post is a joke."  
He managed to lift her shirt a bit and underneath was bliss, decadence.  
"Ooh, so you're a filthy rule-breaker huh? Out of uniform on the job."  
"You're one to talk. Isn't it past your bed time?"  
She freed him from the headlock then, but he stayed put, drunk, all senses utterly overwhelmed.  
"You smell good," he muttered.  
"Don't smell me."  
"How come you smell so good, huh?"  
She scoffed, mortified on his behalf. She radiated sin. He tried to lift her shirt a little higher to reveal the twisting scar tissue on her left side but she tugged it back down past her navel, banishing him. Undaunted, he kissed the handle of one hip bone.  
"What time are you off?" he asked.  
"Half an hour."  
"Yeah? And then what?"  
"I go to bed."  
"Oh, come on. It's Wednesday. That's no fun."  
"Most people work on Wednesdays. And Thursdays."  
"Really? We always take 'em off 'cause it's the worst day of the week." Kissing along the waistband of her pants. Tracing the outer seam of her pants. "That and Monday and Thursday."  
"Well I don't."  
"Okay, well, what are you doing tomorrow?"  
His chest was flush against her and every sense was tuned with violin-string intensity to the excrutiating invitation of her legs, spread to accomodate him.  
"Working."  
"You should take the day off."  
"No."  
"Come on. Just this one time. No one will care."  
"No."  
He kept her distracted with small talk and easy targets for her to shoot down, letting his mouth answer automatically while the rest of him focused on moving slowly up, inch by intoxicating inch, until he was eye level with her and his hips were snug against her crotch. The thin veil of separation between them was hellishly tense.  
"How about this," he offered. "You take the day off, come with me on a date, and I'll leave you alone now."  
"They're mutually exclusive?" she asked dubiously. He felt delightfully lightheaded. Catastrophic blood loss to the brain, he assumed.  
"I dunno, but this is the part where you tell me you'll go out with me."  
"What will I get out of it?"  
"What do you want?"  
She thought about it, pretending not to feel him pressing harder against her, sharing the agony she'd caused him.  
"We won't go out. We'll stay here."  
"Oh, come on--"  
"No. That's my condition."  
He rolled his eyes but couldn't stifle a grin. "Fine. We'll do it here. And what do you want out of it? Since you said you wanted something out of it."  
She glowered up at him. He noticed her phone screen was off. He grinned. "Is it that you want me to leave you alone now? Since I'm obviously bothering you so much."  
Oh, she hated him. He could feel it in every single fiber of those tensed-up muscles, and it only fueled him.  
"You know," he said close to her ear. "For someone who hates to lose as much as you do, you sure do it a lot when I'm around."  
"Losing and letting you win are not the same," she growled, pulling away.  
"You know, that's true. You DON'T let me win--'cause you never even put up a fight." He chuckled at her when she curled her upper lip. "Hey, uh, by the way, we're alone up here, right?"  
"You're here, aren't you?"  
"I just wouldn't want anyone to see us. Well, see you, specifically. Wouldn't want you getting in trouble."  
He dipped down to try and kiss her but she dodged him, so he propped himself on the arm of the couch, hands resting on the top of her head and his face close to hers.  
"Wouldn't that be embarrassing, though? For you, I mean. Getting caught with your boss like this. In, yknow, such a compromising position."  
"Worse for you, I'd think," she fired back, giving up and tossing her phone on the floor before tightly crossing her arms. "Coked-up billionaire forcing himself on an employee? Tsk. Not good."  
"Who's being forced here? You?"  
"I put up with you."  
"You love it."  
She couldn't avoid kissing him without exposing to him the swan curve of her neck. She broke out in goosebumps when he brushed his face against her achingly soft skin. She was sweating lightly.  
"Are you nervous?" he teased, grinding against her.  
"No," she lied.  
"After your shift, come down to my room. We can finish this then, huh?" He gently pushed one of her legs open just a bit wider, palm flat on her hot inner thigh, and rocked into her harder. He breathed heavily in her ear for a moment and was delighted to hear her own breath hitch a little in her throat. "Or do you wanna finish this now? Like you said, we've got half an hour."  
"Mm, but what would we do with the other 28 minutes?" she fired back. He laughed loudly. Sensing her patience had finally worn out, he got pulled away and got back on his feet. Put his hands deep in his pockets and slouched a bit, accentuating his very obvious boner.  
"I can tell you're busy. Just come down whenever you're done, all right?"  
He gave her a glib little grin and sauntered off, casually adjusting himself as he walked. It was difficult to resist the urge to look back, but the indignant snort told him most of what he needed to know. He had her.


End file.
